


This You Can Keep

by t0bemadeofglass



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adult Industry Mission, BFFs Clint and Nat, F/M, PWP, Pining, Porn Without Plot, Post-Captain America Winter Soldier, Prompt Fill, birthday fic, made up fic facts are made up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:28:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2123577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki's not above messing with Natasha's mission when he's bored, but he's beyond clueless when it comes to what that entails.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This You Can Keep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moriarty_assbutt1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriarty_assbutt1/gifts).



> For Pru's birthday, I present this belated fic, and I hope you enjoy it! Thanks so much for reading, and a very happy birthday Pru! Hope it was awesome!  
> Also wrote this while I was half asleep, then typed it up while trying not to fall asleep. Any mistakes are my own, sorry.

He’d been following her for as long as Thor had brought him down to Midgard for what Thor called socialization.  Natasha called it babysitting, and assumed that Asgard had simply gotten bored of doing it.  She was fast getting there herself.  The bastard didn’t stop following her everywhere she went, doing what he could to keep her attention, when really all she wanted was a little peace and quiet, especially after she’d come back from work.  Honestly, could she be blamed for it?  The last thing she wanted was to be stuck watching him when she’d just come back from a two-week stint in Belarus where she’d been fondled and treated like shit, only to be subjected to Loki’s constant, curious stare.  

“Honestly,” she muttered around a bite of falafel, her feet perched on the table in Clint’s room as he tore into the baklava they were supposed to be sharing.  Doubtful, she knew, but if she pretended that she was interested in it then he ordered the bigger portion he actually wanted.  “You’d think there was nothing else to keep him entertained.  He’s got all of the--most of the Internet.  He’s got all of Tony’s half a million books--.”

“Half a thousand, at best.  Don’t exaggerate.”  

She kicked Clint under the table so that he winced.  

“Anyway.  Why the hell does he need me?  He’s gotta know of something else that’ll keep him occupied.”  She rolled her eyes as she leaned back in her seat, folding one ankle to knee.  

“Well you’re attractive.”

“So’s Darcy.”

“And you’re off limits.”  

“So’s . . . a lot of people.”

“And you could kick his ass in a heartbeat.”

“So could Maria!”  

“And you beat him.  At his own game.”

She opened her mouth to counter it but found she had nothing else to say.  He had a point, and she hated him for it, scowling anyway.  “Still.  Doesn’t mean he has to follow me like some lovesick puppy.”

“Throw the guy a bone,” Clint laughed as he took another piece of the sweet, buttered dessert.  How he’d gone so long without getting a cavity was a feat, really.  “If only because it’d be funny as hell to actually see him try and, what is it Thor calls it whenever he’s trying to impress Jane?  Win your favor?”  

That made her eyes roll, but as the days went on and Loki didn’t seem to be going anywhere else, it didn’t seem like there was much of another option.  She caught him pacing back and forth just outside her door one evening, his eyes going wide for half a moment as he stared, caught in the act, before he eased his face into that of relaxation.  

“Lady Romanov, a pleasure to see you.”

“You’re outside my door and you didn’t mean to see me?”  She asked, arching a brow as she pushed her way past him.    

If anyone asked she’d deny it, but there was something, well, at least a little satisfying in hearing him immediately follow after her.  

“Well of course I meant to see you--I mean, I do not simply stay and wait for you outside your door,” he scowled, as though he’d taken offense to the idea.  She turned her head back and arched an eyebrow, the corners of her lips pulling upwards.  

“No?  Then what were you doing?”

“How was your last mission?”  He asked, ignoring her question, but she caught the faintest of blushes creeping its way up his throat and staining his ears.  Caught in the act.  He thought himself so suave it was near laughable.  He might’ve gotten away with it on Asgard, but here?  Well, Barton was right.  She’d been the one to find him out before, she certain could do it again without issue.  

“Nothing different or out of place.  It was a mission, and it’s completed.  Little else to say outside of that.”  She caught a flash of his curiosity, assuming that if there was something she wasn’t telling him then it must’ve been something far more interesting than she claimed.  If only.  

“Certainly?  Then why do you waste your time with it?”  He asked, curiosity bleeding through his words.  She didn’t answer for some time, feeling his wonder ratchet up further though he remained silent about it.  It ate him alive, she knew, and she reveled in it.  His mischievous streak and curiosity would be the end of him if he didn’t learn to control it.  

 

Not that the thought of it would stop him.  Oh no.  A couple days later she was sent back onto mission, hair cut short once more and dyed an even darker shade of red, so much so it nearly looked black under the right light.  Coulson had gotten word that one of the adult industries based in the area had had dealings with Hydra in the past, were possibly even funding them in exchange for experimental substances that weren’t exactly FDA approved.  Hell, she wasn’t sure why Hydra was even sending them out--she’d seen the results.  If the users were so determined to end up mangled and beyond repair they might’ve had better luck jumping off the top of the top of a building.  The rush would’ve been far more worth it than the hallucinogenic effects the users reported getting.  

She posed as a newcomer to the industry, a young college graduate looking to make up her university debts by shooting a few pornos, and though the seedy glances of the owner made her want to rip her own skin from her bones in a desire to be clean again, everything else went well enough.  Her coworkers were friendly, the other women smiling encouragingly as they welcomed her into the shared dressing rooms.  Three different scenes were being shot simultaniously, one girl on girl, one solo, and Natasha’s own--a quick, poorly scripted set up between herself and her partner.  They were supposed to be business partners, and if she hadn’t known any better the whole thing might’ve been set up to sound like that Fifty Shades of whatever book that Barton had been making fun of the other night.  Except this one involved consent, she supposed. Surprising, given the industry and the seedy nature of everything else that she’d seen.  

From her place in front of her mirror she could watch the other girls getting ready, applying their own make-up, the needle points on their arms powdered until they were near invisible if one didn’t know what they were looking for.  They’d be taken out in post op, and even as they sat there and gabbed about their kids, families, and boyfriends of past and present one of the girls was taking out a syringe to pump more of the crap into her system.  Nat made a note of where she stashed it in her drawer, thinking she’d have time in between shoots to snag the thin baggie with the deep blue powder to bring it back to Medical.  

“So, rumor is you’re not the only new one on set.”  Aliana, one of the girls with glassy eyes and a wide grin said as she looked over to Natasha.  “Supposed to be fresh meat working opposite you.  Just transferred from another company--better pay here, I guess.”  

“Is that normal?”  Natasha asked, her brow pulled down as she turned away from where she’d been carefully drawing the wings of her dark eyeliner.  Coulson had told her that they’d be sending someone else to make sure that she didn’t go in alone.  His concern had been sweet, but unnecessary.  She’d gotten out of worse, after all.  But this was his way of doing things now that Fury was out of the picture, and it would simply take some adjusting in order to get a hang of it.  

“Sometimes.  Depends on the scene.  On the director.  They have a good relationship, I guess.”  The girl waggled her eyebrows, sticking her tongue out to run across her top lip as the other girls dissolved into giggles, Natasha along with them.  

“Well, I’ve got a lot of ground to make up I guess,” Natasha said, her voice taking on a more nervous hint to it.  The girl sharing her mirror reached over to take her hand and squeeze it.  How quickly these women bonded together.  It fascinated her.  

“You’ll be fine.  Just relax.”  Mariah said, dark eyes soft and face relaxed as she offered her a smile.  “You’ll get used to it.  Want something to take the edge off?”

“Got something,” Nat promised, reaching her extra hand out to shake a small bottle of vodka she’d snuck in, though it was obvious they couldn’t have given a damn about what their actors were on while they filmed.  “Thanks, though.  Next time?”

“Sure thing, girl.  Sure thing.”  

 

The outfit they’d put her in was not the least comfortable thing she’d ever had to wear, but it was pretty damn close, and it took all her concentration not to shred it and just decide to go naked.  Why not, after all?  She’d be there soon enough.  Behind her the camera crew talked loudly amongst themselves, discussing angles and lighting, as Natasha was led over to the seat in front of what was supposed to be her makeshift boss’s desk.  The shoes were a size too small, pinching her toes as she crossed her legs and tapped her freshly manicured fingertips on the arms of the chair.  Her mind wondered who it was that Shield had gone ahead to send as her working partner, running through a quick tally of the possibilities.  Clint was away in Syria working on a deep shadow undercover op, Steve and Sam were still chasing after James, Thor would be no good at this.  Stark?  Far too recognizable.  Some rookie, she was sure.  So long as he didn’t break her cover, she supposed, it would just have to do.  

“Alright, Logan, you can take a seat. It shouldn’t be much longer.”  She heard the director say as she allowed herself to look over.  Froze.  

He’d cut his hair, let it curl atop his head, and colored it deep reddish brown, and the grey and red suit he wore was immaculate to say the least, but there was no disguising those green eyes, or the sharp cheekbones she’d come to associate with a pestering force.  He’d been so curious that he’d had to follow her, really?  She disguised her incredulity as nerves, sucking on her bottom lip and fattening it as she watched him stride with hands in pockets.  She wondered whether Phil had even sent him, or if there was some poor level six knocked out in some cart trunk.  Loki, or Logan as he was called now, moved to sit opposite her, legs spread wide, exuding a confidence she’d seen in Stuttgart and New York.  Interesting that he could only seem to pull it all together when there was an audience.  Thanks to the commotion of the cameraman and director arguing, she managed to slink off her chair and move opposite him.  

“Loki,” Natasha smiled, indulgent, as she neared him.  The man’s eyes widened half a centimeter, brow furrowing in confusion and mouth falling open to discount the name.  She cut him off before he got the chance.  “You, of all people, should know that a haircut and change in style isn’t going to fool me.”  

“I don’t--.”

She placed one finger to his lips, the indulgence in her eyes fanning into something deeper, far more wild.  Something she’d been keeping to herself for far too long if it was taking her this strongly.  He wanted to play with her while she was on a mission?  Fine.  

“You have no idea what you’re in for.”  She knelt down to his level, settling her hands on his wide spread knees.  As they slid up his his thighs she watched his Adam’s apple bob.  “If you want to play this game with me then you’d best come to terms with the fact that you will lose and what will happen when you do.”  

Curiosity flashed in his eyes and the edges of his lips curled upwards in a flash of intrigue and haughty self awareness she could see through in a moment.  “Perhaps you ought to enlighten me, Natasha.”  

There came a shout from behind before Natasha caught the sound of footsteps behind her.  Rising to her feet, Nat offered a smile to the director who grinned at the sight of them.  

“Good to see you’re getting on well.”  He patted Loki’s shoulder, and the man relaxed beneath it.  Quickly, the man explained what he wanted from the scene how they’d plan on shooting it, and all the while Natasha couldn’t help from flashing her gaze to Loki.  Was he really ready for this?  A couple minutes later the man was moving to take his place on the sidelines, and Natasha was repositioning herself back in her seat, perched up on the edge of it.  As was required by the scene, she was the new intern at the job, he the experienced, suave boss.  A good thing he was better at acting than she’d first thought.  

Soon as the director called for action the lines came with ease out of Nat’s mouth, her fingers idly shuffling her papers as she looked up at him and told him how grateful she was to have been accepted.  How excited she was to be working under him.  She allowed her cheeks to heat up at the comment as she watched his grin turn from interested to sinister.  He sat forward in his seat, fingers steepled in front of him.  

“I’d like for you to show me just how you intend to work under me, Miss. Smith,” he said, voice a deep purr that she was sure would translate well onto film.  Had he not been a megalomaniac it might’ve even been a good career path for him.  She made a great show of looking taken aback by the invitation, but after biting her bottom lip and inhaling deeply she eased her shoulders out of the jacket she’d been given.  He eased forward in his seat again, licking his lips slowly as her fingers grazed the edges of the tube top she’d been given, sliding it up and over her head.  Her breasts bounced as she tossed the top to the side, standing up and taking her place on the edge of the desk right in front of him.  

“Like this, sir?”  She asked, voice soft, sticking her tongue out to lick her bottom lip.  Slowly, Loki stood and Nat leaned closer to undo his belt, looking up at him through her lashes as she worked.  

“Faster,” Loki demanded, wrapping one arm behind her head and threading his fingers through her hair.  It was easy to forget that there were cameras elsewhere as she locked eyes with him and moaned softly, palming him and pulling his cock free from the confines of his trousers.  He slipped her skirt up, making some scripted, lewd comment about how she wasn’t wearing any panties, before he took himself in hand and guided himself into her.  The gasp that found its way out of her mouth was, as much as she hated to say, real, and the flash that went through his eyes told her he knew that.  His grin widened as he wrapped one arm around her midsection and held her all the closer.  It wasn't necessarily in the plan, and there was a break in the action as the director told them to stop.  Nat barely held in a groan of disbelief.  No.  She didn’t want to.  They paused as the man came closer to explain how he wanted them, and only after he’d retreated behind the camera and called for action did Loki resume.  

Well, one thing in his favor she supposed was he was exceptionally good at taking orders.  In the back of her mind she thought of all the ways she could explore that.  

They shifted again so that she could lay down the full length of the desk, her breasts bouncing as he fucked harder and harder into her.  The heels of her too-small shoes dug into his back, and his hands held tight to her hips as he worked.  His brow furrowed as his mouth fell open and panted.  One of his hands reached up, trailing over her soft skin with feather-light touches that turned harsh as he fondled her breasts, tugging at her nipples until she whimpered and writhed beneath him. Again the noises coming from her mouth were real, her back arching, before it snaked further upwards to her throat.  He wrapped a hand around her neck and her eyes locked onto his, panting harder than she had been in the past half hour or so.  

“L-Oh god,” she groaned as she felt herself getting closer.  No.  She couldn’t do that, not yet.  She couldn’t afford to break her cover.  She had to look as though she’d done this before, somehow.  Maybe.  She willed herself to hold back as they cycled through the usual plethora of boring positions, though each time Loki managed to find the perfect spot within her, battering against her g-spot until she saw lights popping in front of her eyes.  By the time she was eventually allowed to come, according to the Director, she groaned as loudly as she could manage, flipped around to stare back at Loki.  His face was screwed up in a look of concentration, sweat beading on his brow, and she reached up to claw at his shoulder.  

“Please--please sir,” she begged, sure it would set him off before her.  She’d already come a couple times, having forced herself to stay quiet enough so that the others couldn’t detect it, and now she was determined to make him finish before she.  His rhythm stuttered, his own moans cutting off as he prepared to come, pulling out just in time to come on her breasts, Nat moaning as though she couldn’t get enough of it.  

 

They cleaned up and watched the tape soon after, the both of them wrapped in soft robes that Nat was surprised that they supplied for them.  She couldn’t keep herself from watching his face as they worked, watched the rapt attention as he focused solely on her.  It was intimate, far too much so for any actual porn, and something deep in her stomach hurt to see it.  Ass.  How dare he look at her that way?  She’d speak to him about it later when it wouldn’t endanger her op, but didn’t stop him when he wrapped an arm around her waist from where they sat beside one another, and didn’t protest when he offered to take her out for coffee.  

Maybe things would find some way to work out after all.  

 

 


End file.
